


slip away

by quitefair



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quitefair/pseuds/quitefair
Summary: the first time Zagreus escapes the underworld.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	slip away

**Author's Note:**

> i have been thinking about this fic ever since i first completed a run two weeks ago. here's the result of two weeks of angst-ridden brain rot.

It was warm in the west hall, whatever-time-this-was. The customary dry-heat-warmth that Achilles had come to associate with the House of Hades. Granted, he had not much experience with the rest of the Underworld, as it may be. The brief cool-breeze of Elysium, from when he had first arrived here, kicking and screaming in anger, was a faint memory, for he had not spent much time there.

But the warmth in his Lord’s House was welcoming, comforting in its own way. The dry heat reminding him of the years huddled against his mother as a child, close to the fire burning in the hearth. Huddling close to Patroclus on a winter’s night, finding warmth, solace in each other.

Those memories too were faint, but he had ample time to remember them whilst he stood at his post.

It was quiet now, whatever-time-this was. He could hear the faint murmurings from the lounge across the main hall. Nyx stood in her corner, her gaze piercing but aimless. He had seen the Fury Megaera enter the lounge after she had emerged from the Pool however long it was ago. Dusa was dusting by the entrance of the lounge, humming softly as she usually did. It was quiet enough that he could hear the faint, even breathing of sleeping Hypnos, just out of sight. Orpheus was strumming a melancholy tune on his lyre, not really looking at anything in particular. Achilles did not turn his head, but he had also noticed Master Thanatos lounging at the end of the hallway, scythe laid down as he watched the river flow beyond the House.

Cerberus and Lord Hades were not present. Zagreus had been gone for quite some time, and as it were when that happened, Achilles would hear a deep sigh from the Lord Hades, which would be followed by the scraping of his great chair. He would then make his way past Achilles, the great hound Cerberus silent at his heels, towards his chambers, and then presumably, upwards to the Temple of Styx.

To face his son.

This had happened several times already. Zagreus was growing stronger, quicker, more skilled, the more times he attempted to escape his father’s domain. Achilles had counted at least six times that Zagreus had managed to reach the surface, only to be cut down by his father. But the fact that he had even managed to reach that point was a testament to his determination and sheer grit.

Were Achilles alive and able to feel any physical sensation, he would feel the pride blooming inside his chest at his pupil’s progress.

Which is why he now awaited Zagreus’ arrival, at whatever-time-this-was. He knew Nyx too was expecting him, for her eyes now were drawn to the pool. Hypnos still snored quietly. Thanatos watched the Styx quietly. Dusa had entered the lounge, and Megaera was nowhere to be seen.

Then, Achilles heard the splash of water from the pool.

The lounge grew quiet. Thanatos’ head turned sharply. Nyx hovered closer towards the great hall, her pale, perfect face unreadable as always. Orpheus continued playing, though his eyes now were drawn to the pool.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

Those footsteps were wrong. The fact that Achilles could hear footsteps in the first place was wrong. Zagreus was light on his feet, never made a sound as he dashed from one corner to the other. These were slow, _heavy_ footsteps. He craned his neck to see better. Megaera and Dusa had also emerged from the lounge, standing just behind Nyx, just in reach of the shadows of the east hallway.

He heard Hypnos stutter out of his slumber and begin to speak.

“Welcome to the House of Hades, how may I…”  
  
But his voice trailed off. Achilles also realised now that Orpheus had stopped playing.

The _thud, thud, thud, thud,_ the heavy footsteps, they continued on, despite Hypnos’ stuttering, despite the deathly silence of the great hall, and before long Achilles caught sight of the figure those footsteps belonged to.

The Lord Hades.

Achilles felt his eyes grow wide. Orpheus’ mouth was open in a comical image of shock. Megaera and Dusa looked at each other sharply, though they were too far away for Achilles to see their expressions. He heard Thanatos’ sharp intake of breath next to him, closer than he was before. They all stared in silence, watching their Lord trudge towards his throne.

Lord Hades looked as if he were about to collapse, he nearly staggered as he clutched the edge of his desk, his pronged staff in hand, fingers tight around it. His brows were creased, face twisted into an expression of anger, bitterness, grief, and what else Achilles did not know. There were flecks of dried blood on his arms, on his staff, blood that Achilles knew belonged to his son. Lord Hades himself looked unscathed, having returned via the rejuvenating pool.

He did not linger for long. After a moment, he turned sharply to Nyx, who simply stared back at him, that ever-serene expression on her face. Then, with a deep, shuddering exhale, he turned and _thud, thud, thud, thud,_ walked towards his chambers.

It was only when the doors slammed shut did the murmuring start again.

Nyx and Thanatos both disappeared almost immediately. Megaera stormed off into the lounge, Dusa frantically chasing after her. Orpheus sat in his chair and stared blankly at his lyre. The murmuring shades however continued their slow procession around the hall.

Achilles’ fingers tightened around his spear.

_He made it._

He thought of how-ever-much-time-it-was-ago that Zagreus passed him by, having just been shunted back to his father’s House courtesy of King Theseus’ spear. He had brought news of a shade he had met in Elysium, a shade he had described as being aloof and incredibly sad. A shade he had described, and that Achilles knew in his heart of hearts was his Patroclus. Zagreus promised to tell him more when he returned next, to send Patroclus Achilles’ love and regards. The lad had also quietly pressed a bottle of nectar into Achilles’ hands, saying he had found it on one of his journeys through Tartarus, saying it was a gift. And then with a crooked smile and a wave, he made his way towards the eastern hall and lounge, to speak with the other denizens of the House.

And that would be the last memory Achilles would have of him. That grin, those kind eyes, that wave and promise to return.

Achilles closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the gods of Olympus. A prayer to look after the lad. To watch over him above ground as they promised to do underneath it. And for him to finally, _finally_ find his mother.


End file.
